


watching and wanting

by readysetstarker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Peter Parker is 18, Peter Parker is a Brat, Uncle Tony Stark, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 23:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20518538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readysetstarker/pseuds/readysetstarker
Summary: They had already fought about this new arrangement dozens of times, screaming at the top of their lungs until their neighbors called the police or until May reminded him that his only other option besides living with her brother was military school in Washington. That would mean cutting off all contact with Ned and MJ, as well as giving up his spot on the decathlon team and having Flash take his place. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Peter had chosen the path of least resistance.At the very least, staying with this uncle he’d never met meant coming back to his life without having to shave all his hair off.Maybe.tumblr prompt fill





	watching and wanting

**Author's Note:**

> okay, for the record, i haven’t written incest fic since i was maybe 13, and it is going to show. i wanted to take another stab at it, though. i might even come back to this idea at a later date bc there's a 60k fic in my head of it rn that i would LOVE to write but. i don't have the time atm. so thank you, silkystark, for giving me the excuse to write this! hate is just gonna be unread and deleted so.... why bother lol
> 
> also i wasn't comfortable writing underage incest so peter is 18 bc i said so. deal w/ it. 
> 
> much love to quellthefire for helping me out and giving me the motivation i needed to finish this!! you're amazing and i cannot express enough how much i appreciate you. y'all can thank her for the follow-up i'll be posting later this month, probably exclusively on my tumblr, which you can find at the end of this work.
> 
> **prompt from tumblr:** " okay so i sent this to someone well over a month ago and they never did it so im hoping you can? plsss peter gets sent to uncle tony’s for the summer because of his bad behavior in school. he ends up *accidentally* watching tony have sex with some random girl he brought home and idk maybe tony catches him or peter tells him he could do better than she did? maybe somethin like that or honestly i would settle for any uncle tony stuff"

Peter was livid.

It wasn’t his fault he had broken Flash’s nose, and chipped one of his teeth in the process. It wasn’t his fault that the punch that broke Flash’s face had fractured two of Peter’s fingers and forced the school nurse to call May about it. Even worse, May had to spend two hours after hours in the principal’s office; Flash’s parents wanted to press charges, and the court fees would have put them several weeks behind on rent.

Flash had it coming, egging Peter on, calling him vile things, and saying the most disgusting shit that lit a fire in Peter’s gut. If he had kept his goddamn mouth shut and minded his own business, nothing would have happened.

Everything could have been normal, gone back to the way it was.

So why the fuck was Peter the one having to pay for it?

The drive out to the little town of Bumfuck, Nowhere had been tense, with an uncomfortable silence settled between him and May. It was broken only by some cheesy 80s pop songs playing on her radio. They all sounded the same, but listening to them passed the time. May had spent the majority of the drive with her fists clenched so tightly around the steering wheel that Peter could just about see the veins popping over her knuckles.

They had already fought about this new arrangement dozens of times, screaming at the top of their lungs until their neighbors called the police or until May reminded him that his only other option besides living with her brother was military school in Washington. That would mean cutting off all contact with Ned and MJ, as well as giving up his spot on the decathlon team and having Flash take his place. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Peter had chosen the path of least resistance.

At the very least, staying with this uncle he’d never met meant coming back to his life without having to shave all his hair off.

Maybe.

“What’s so special about this ‘Tony,’ anyway?” he eventually asked, doing his best to keep any kind of venom out of his voice.

His words caused May to jump, shoulders going tense for just a second before she relaxed. Or, not _ relaxed _, so much as she let out a heavy sigh and leaned into the back of her seat. He hated that he could see relief on her face that he wasn’t screaming at her. Guilt settled itself between his ribs like a knife. He pretended not to feel it.

“Nothing ‘special,’ really,” May answered. She said it slowly enough that Peter knew each word was specifically chosen to not set off his newfound temper. He hated it but swallowed down the sour taste in his mouth. “I just can’t do another fight with you, Pete. If we keep getting the cops called on us, the landlord is going to evict us, and we can’t afford to lose our apartment. It’s best if we spend some time apart.”

Peter scoffed. “You just want to get rid of me.”

“I want things to go back to normal!” May exclaimed.

Peter bit his tongue and sunk lower in his seat, pulling the hood of his faded blue sweatshirt up over his face so May wouldn’t see the redness growing on his cheeks, or the tears beginning to collect in his eyes. He hated doing this to her, hated seeing her hurt because of something he said or did. He had put the weariness in her voice, pushed her to the point of sending him away.

He knew it, but it was better than the alternative scenario that sent nausea spiraling through him.

So he gave up on the argument and returned to their unpleasant silence, putting his feet up on the dashboard and listening to how quickly she turned up the music. He didn’t want to start another argument with her, so he leaned his head against the door and stared out the window at a line of unfamiliar buildings passing by.

Another ten minutes of driving, and she turned up a street just off the main road, weaving her way through the twisting roads. The buildings gave way to trees, then to flat fields, until finally, a large white and blue house came into view, and the road turned to gravel under her car’s wheels. Peter sat up to look and was greeted by the sight of it. There was a deck painted white that lined a corner of the house with a set of old wooden stairs leading up to the front door.

Parked in front of that was an old black Cadillac whose frame was littered with faded spots and rust, the hood popped open to bare an engine that looked fairly new. There was a body bent over the front of the car, a few colored wires in one hand while the other was twisting off a cap. The man’s head lifted up from his work at the sound of May’s squeaky brakes bringing her old car to a halt, and he grinned in a way that made Peter’s heart stutter in his chest.

Oh no.

May shut her engine off quickly, sniffled against her tears, and put on a bright smile as she pushed her door open and waved. “Tony! Oh, my god, I’m so happy to see you.”

Peter watched her jump from her seat and leave the car door open. She practically leapt into her brother’s waiting arms, not seeming to care about the black smudges on his hands and forearms. May looked deliriously happy to see Tony, babbling on and on as he greeted her with a bright smile, and Peter tried to make himself as invisible as possible while getting out of the car. The squeaking hinges of the door on his side betrayed him, and Tony’s gaze drifted over to him.

Thick, dark hair was going silver at his temples, but was slick and styled in a way that made it near-irresistible to reach up and card your fingers through. His goatee was shaved and shaped smartly. He wore a thin Black Sabbath shirt with the sleeves rolled into the cuffs to show off a pair of impressive biceps and dark blue jeans tucked into brown work boots. A lightweight red and black plaid shirt was tied around his waist, though it hung low and loose from his hips. There were lines across his face from age, but they only seemed to enhance how handsomely he had grown into them.

Fuck. For a man pushing forty-seven, Tony was hot. Nearly as hot as the guys in Peter’s favorite porn videos.

_ No, don’t think like that, you fucking perv. Just because you’ve never met him doesn’t mean you’re not _family.

To save himself from the embarrassment of being caught staring, Peter chose instead to narrow his eyes at Tony and glower. Put his walls up, defend himself. Tony didn’t seem at all fazed by his sudden unfriendliness. He stepped forward and held his hand out. May frowned at Peter over his shoulder.

“You must be the infamous Peter!” Oh, that tone. It was enough to get Peter’s fighting spark back in his gut. “It’s nice to see you again. Ah, you probably don’t remember me. The last time I saw you, you were four years old.”

Four years old? The only thing that could have prompted Tony to come see him at that age was his parents’ funeral. Tony was the older sibling between the three siblings, and he had moved far from New York several years before Peter had been born. Tony had always been an absent presence in Peter’s life, but at least he hadn’t tried to make a grab at Peter’s inheritance the way most of his other family members had.

Tony had helped pay for the lawyer that got May custody of him when a legal battle loomed over them, so Peter supposed he had that to thank him for.

Still, despite that history, Peter certainly didn’t feel obligated to be nice when he was being _ sent away _ for the summer.

“Yeah.”

He said nothing else, just stared Tony down and shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. May didn’t look happy with his rude introduction, but Tony just shrugged and dropped his hand to his side. Her muttered apology to her brother was brushed off, and Peter disengaged immediately to grab his suitcase and backpack.

Tony was personable enough, inviting them in, offering them lemonade (pouring some for Peter despite the fact that he flat-out said that he didn’t want any), and offering to help Peter into his guest room down the hall from the kitchen. Peter could handle his own bags, thank you very much.

Once in the bedroom, though, May followed him and leaned against the doorway.

“Play nice,” she hissed at him, arms coming up to cross over her chest. “You know what your only other option is.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Peter spat before he could stop himself. “I get into _ one _ fight, and you want to send me to the middle of nowhere with some stranger. I don’t even know the guy!”

“He’s not a stranger, Pete, he’s your uncle. And you’re not in the middle of nowhere. There’s a busy city street just a few minutes away.”

“And my friends are _ two hours _ away!” Peter stormed up, anger bubbling in his gut. He didn’t care if he was loud or if Tony heard him. Might as well go ahead and give him a taste of what he was getting into. Maybe it would be enough that he’d change his mind and kick them both out. “I’d rather go through another stupid therapy session than fucking be here!”

“We’re here _ because _ you wouldn’t cooperate in therapy!” May threw her hands up. Her cheeks and nose burned red and she wiped a stray tear away while pushing hair out of her eyes. Peter supposed she gave up on being quiet as well. “I can’t keep paying to send you to someone you won’t talk to! And this whole aggressive, angry person you’ve become is going to put us out on the street!”

Peter’s lips pulled into a tight line, jaw tensed. May was right. He hated that she was right, and watching her cry because of him just made it worse.

Tony was at the door, his hands on May’s shoulders, and the look he settled Peter with made his blood run cold. Eyes hardened, jaw tight, with a scowl that made Peter want to fold himself up into his hoodie and not come out. He consoled May by squeezing her shoulders and turning his back to Peter, ushering her out of the room with quiet consolations.

Peter half expected Tony to leave the room with her, maybe slam the door on his way out. Instead, Tony turned back and approached him. Peter took a step back.

“Ground rules,” Tony said as he put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter didn’t think anything of it until it squeezed so hard a muscle cramped in his neck. “No sneaking out, no smoking or drinking, and absolutely _ do not _ raise your voice at me. You yell at me like that, and I won’t hesitate to make you sleep in the backyard with a chain around your ankle. Is that understood?”

Peter refused to answer until the hand on his shoulder tightened again, this time with the bite of Tony’s fingernails alongside it. He hissed and grabbed Tony’s wrist.

“Am I understood, Peter?”

“Yeah, fine! I understand!”

All at once, the pain was gone, and Tony looked to the world like the pleasant uncle he had been when Peter and May first arrived. “Good boy. May might be too afraid of your temper tantrums to say anything, but I’m not. You’re not the big man on campus anymore, Pete. I’m gonna make damn sure you learn some respect while you’re here.”

Tony turned his back on Peter’s open mouth and walked back out into the hallway to talk to May about his stay there for the next few weeks, acting like he hadn’t just put an iron hand on Peter’s shoulder and damn near dislocated something. Where Tony had gripped him ached and he rolled his shoulder.

May said farewell with a tearful hug and kissed his temple, whispering affection into his hair that made his stomach twist. He hugged her back and promised to be good. The words rang hollow in his ears. Over her shoulder, he could see Tony smugly smiling at him.

Peter glared back.

This was going to be the longest summer of his life.

—

Peter’s first night in the house was spent mostly alone. He had been surprised when Tony showed up at his door and announced that he was going to go out, leaving Peter alone in the house for a few hours. Peter had made the predictable joke about running away the second Tony’s headlights disappeared, but Tony had come back immediately by informing him that the police chief, Steve Rogers, was a good friend of his and would “drag Peter back kicking and screaming if he tried it.” May would never even have to be involved.

That earned him another one of Peter’s glares, but Tony hadn’t been bothered by it. He just winked and told Peter that it would be late when he got back, “So don’t wait up, kiddo.”

Peter had taken advantage of Tony’s absence by exploring the house. It was a simple two-story home with the living room, kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedrooms down the hall from each other. Upstairs was just a loft turned into a home office, with a large wooden desk covered in car schematics (Peter may or may have not spent nearly forty-five minutes checking those out), and a desktop setup that was password protected. The other side of the room was fitted out as a home gym, which Peter guessed was where those biceps came from.

_ Stop it, Peter. That’s weird. _

A growling stomach led him downstairs to the kitchen where he noticed a note attached to the fridge: _ Help yourself to some food, but nothing in the tupperware. That’s mine. Text me if there’s an emergency. -TS. _ Underneath that was a phone number. Peter didn’t bother trying to remember it until he turned his laptop on twenty minutes later and realized that the wifi was also password protected.

_ The wifi password isn’t an emergency _ , _ Pete _, read the text. Tony still gave it to him (1R0NM4N), and Peter purposely opened a tupperware with leftover lasagna and ate it cold. He sent a picture of the empty container to Tony and received no response.

He didn’t know when he eventually fell asleep watching dog videos on YouTube but it was close to 2 AM when he woke up to the end of his playlist, a large white prompt to replay the previous video glaring on his screen. He rubbed at his eyes and pulled his headphones out of his ears. He had fallen asleep in his jeans and hoodie, passed out on his side with a red imprint of his headphones wire pressed into his cheek, and his mouth tasted like stale tomatoes.

He needed to change into his pajamas, brush his teeth, and maybe not wake up the next time he fell asleep.

Peter wasn’t sure how he missed it, but the sounds from his uncle’s side of the hallway didn’t register with him until his bedroom door was open, and he discovered that Tony’s was as well. And not just that, but his uncle had a very loud guest. Peter was wide awake now, adrenaline rushing through him at the realization of what was happening across the hall from him.

Tony had dragged some poor soul back home with him, despite the teenager currently occupying the room across from him, and she was giving his uncle the ride of his life. She bounced in his lap, moaning like she was auditioning for a poorly-funded porno, with her fingers running wild through Tony’s hair. Tony didn’t notice Peter had emerged from his room, too busy shoving his tongue into the woman’s open mouth.

The woman in Tony’s lap wasn’t what caught his attention; Peter couldn’t help the way his eyes locked onto his uncle’s naked body, watching the way he rolled his hips up as his partner lowered herself down on his cock, which was covered in a pastel pink condom and— Peter’s mouth was suddenly dry as a desert. It looked thick, stretching the thin latex of the condom out while pounding up into her.

It was completely wrong of him to keep staring, leaning up against the doorframe behind him and just… watching. Tony’s arms looked just as good to him as they had when he first arrived, and the rest of him looked good as well. He was toned and muscled, and _ fuck _.

Peter was going to hell. He was going to hell for outright oggling a blood relative while the guy was having sex.

To be fair, Peter told himself, Tony had been the one to leave the door wide open in the first place. Peter just happened to walk into the hallway at the worst (best?) time.

Tony’s hands grabbed at his partner’s hip and neck, pulling her in for a sloppy kiss as another stream of obscene moans were drawn out of her. She moaned Tony’s name and threw her head back. Peter panicked for a moment that she would see him, but her eyes were squeezed shut, and she continued riding Tony for all he was worth while she pulled his hair. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, and Peter wanted to clamp his hands over his ears.

Not that he got the chance..

Tony dragged his fingers down her back, groaning as he latched his mouth to her neck, and he just had to glance out into the hallway. Peter felt his skin prickle when his uncle’s dark eyes landed on him, not yet taking in the fact that they had an audience. He blinked, once, and his eyes went wide when he realized what was happening. The woman in his lap remained oblivious, hips still moving.

Peter chewed on his lip. He probably should have left, retreated back into his room and made the encounter he’d have the following morning a little less awkward. Brushing the encounter off as a simple accident would have been easier that way.

Instead, he stayed where he was, eyes locked on the scene, cock twitching in the confines of his jeans. Tony’s face pinched in a disbelieving glare. Was he so shocked that Peter was watching? Maybe he could tell Peter was getting turned on, could see the tent he was beginning to pitch.

Tony’s attention was pulled away by his partner grabbing his face between her hands and forcefully kissing him. The gasp it pulled out of Tony’s throat made Peter want to burst out laughing.

Her sudden distraction gave Peter ample time to return to his room, closing the door maybe a little too hard, his hand coming down to palm himself over his jeans. The whimper his own hand pulled from him was drowned out by the sound of a squeaking mattress, of moans that grew louder. Did they change position? Was Tony taking back control?

Peter squeezed himself, trying to imagine how they looked now, how _ Tony _ looked now.

He should have felt disgusted by himself, he supposed. He should be horrified with himself and curl up into a ball of self-hatred. Tony was his uncle, his blood, his _ family _.

That thought only seemed to tighten the coil building in him, heart skipping in his chest. Any and all hesitation washed out of him the second his hand slid down into his underwear, past the seam of his jeans, and he took himself in hand.

—

Peter was up before Tony the next morning, noticing that his uncle’s door was shut when he entered the hallway. If only he had had the foresight to do so the night before, and just the memory of it was enough to get Peter’s cock twitching. He stamped the thought down, trying not to focus on the toe-curling orgasm he had given himself while listening to Tony’s mattress protest each thrust into his partner.

She had been loud, obnoxiously so, but Peter had been more focused on how deliciously his uncle’s cock had stretched the rubber of the condom. It had taken no time at all for him to get over the guilt of wanting to wrap his lips around it or having it pounding him into his uncle’s mattress.

Fuck, he was getting hard again. Peter closed the door to the bathroom next to his room and pressed his face against the cold wood of the door until he could cool himself off, but a quick glance in the mirror showed his face was flushed.

God, this really _ was _ going to be the longest summer of his life.

Instead of focusing on the new hole he had currently dug himself, Peter decided to help himself to some of the food in Tony’s kitchen. His stomach rumbled loudly underneath his baggy hoodie, hanging just below his boxers and swinging with each step he took. Not trusting himself to safely use Tony’s gas stove (everything back in Queens had been electric, easier to use), Peter settled for a bowl of cereal and an orange from a bowl of fruit by the sink.

He scrolled through Twitter on his phone to catch up on everything he had missed from the night before. A few texts from Ned popped up in his notifications, asking him about how he was doing. Ned, who knew so much more about his situation than May or anyone else, checking in on him first thing in the morning. What did Peter do to deserve him?

Peter walked over to the window and snapped a picture of the car Tony had been fixing up the day before. He returned to his breakfast just as Ned answered back.

_ That looks like the kind of car that hillbillies make moonshine out of. Ooh, does he make moonshine? Can you score me some?  
_

Peter chuckled and started responding when he heard the telltale click of a latch sliding out of place. All the hinges on the house were loud. He could hear Tony and his date from last night talking, her laugh made Peter recoil physically. It was fake, painfully and obviously fake. If Tony couldn’t see that, Peter wasn’t too sure about his aunt’s faith in her brother to reform him.

He hid his text conversation and brought his Twitter feed back up just as both of them rounded the corner. They stopped the second they noticed him, both looking surprised, but Peter knew there were different reasons behind both expressions. He smirked at them and waved with his spoon.

“Good morning,” he greeted. He knew his tone was obnoxiously kind, and Tony seemed to catch on to his attitude, if the way the man’s eyes narrowed into slits once the words were out of his mouth.

“Oh,” the girl said, and Peter could all but see the cogs working in her mind. “I didn’t realize you had company, Tony.”

Peter pretended not to notice the fact that she completely ignored his greeting. Rude.

“That’s just my brat of a nephew,” Tony said between clenched teeth. He walked past her and moved to the coffee brewer by the fridge. “Want something to eat before you leave? I make a mean omelette.”

The girl opened her mouth, eyes flicking to Peter still smirking at the kitchen counter, before she closed it and shook her head. “No, thank you, I should really get going. Thanks for letting me stay the night. I’ll, um, I’ll call you.”

“You do that.”

Tony shot her a wink.

Peter didn’t bother trying to hide his eye rolling.

She left quickly with her eyes downcast, clutching her purse like a lifeline. Peter peeled one of the sections of his orange off and put it into his mouth to hide the satisfied smile on his face at hearing the door close behind her. The second she was out of earshot, though, was when the tension between him and Tony returned. He still had his back to Peter, but his shoulders were squared like he was prepared for a confrontation.

Tony eventually did, once his coffee was ready. Black, no sugar, and Tony leaned his hip against the counter. His eyes pinned Peter in place while he took a long, slow sip.

Peter met his gaze, trying not to flinch underneath it.

The mug fell from his lips, and Tony cocked his head. “Sleep good last night?”

“Yeah,” Peter answered, eating another orange slice. “Bed is uncomfortable as hell, though. How old is that mattress?”

Tony snorted.

“All right, smartass, I’m not going to beat around the bush. What the hell were you doing outside my bedroom last night? You’re old enough to know that shit was _ beyond _ inappropriate.” He set his coffee mug down onto the counter behind him and fixed Peter with a look that said he wasn’t going to get out of answering him.

Peter chewed thoughtfully on his fruit and swallowed it.

“You’re the one who left his bedroom door open while fucking someone,” he said with a shrug, making sure to keep his voice as even as possible. “I was just trying to brush my teeth.”

Tony’s smile was strained. He put his sight to the floor, chewing on his lip while he pondered his response. Peter shoved a spoonful of wet cereal into his mouth to keep from having to speak. A new text from Ned was a small reprieve from the confrontation between him and Tony. His fingers brushed the screen.

“Fine, kid, you win this round. I’m not in the mood to think about everything you might have seen last night.” Tony curled his fingers around his mug and lifted it from the counter. “But next time you hear some of that shit going down, blast some music or something. I’m not changing my habits just because you’re staying here.”

Peter hummed his answer around a mouthful of cereal and fruit, and Tony trudged upstairs after topping his coffee off. He texted Ned a picture of Tony later when he was outside working on his beat-up car out front, and Ned texted him asking how Peter could be related to such a hunk but get none of the good looks. Peter sent him a selfie of himself giving the middle finger and ignored the following texts in favor of finishing his breakfast.

—

Despite saying that he wouldn’t be changing his ways, Tony didn’t bring anyone home for two weeks. Peter wondered if he had made his uncle uncomfortable with his unintentional staring that night, but that quickly disappeared as all of Tony’s attention turned on him. Not that Peter would have minded if Tony’s attention didn’t involve being forced to help clean the house, watching old (and really, really bad) action flicks with him on the couch, and going to work with him in his mechanic’s garage where Peter, unfortunately, was taken on for the summer as a part-timer.

Well, maybe it wasn’t too unfortunate. Peter actually found himself enjoying his hours in the garage learning how to replace spark plugs, to check and change the oil, and he even got to watch as Tony and his business partner, Bruce, took a faulty engine out of a car and replaced it.

Peter decided that he liked Bruce; he was soft-spoken but level-headed, laughed at Peter’s jokes, and came to his defense when Tony started berating or shitting on him while he was around. Tony let Bruce show Peter the ropes while he worked off to the side. He warned Peter later to watch how he acted around him due to some past anger management issues that made his job hunt difficult, leading to him and Tony opening up a mechanic’s shop together.

Maybe he was hoping Peter would ask about how they came up with that idea. Peter decided he didn’t care, and just nodded at Tony’s story with lo mein noodles poking out from between his lips.

Things had almost seemed to become a certain kind of normal, if Peter could call it that. Even if his texts and calls to May went ignored, there was a rhythm in Tony’s house he fell into that made him feel at least a little bit normal.

Until he didn’t.

It was his fault for unblocking Flash’s number. There were a few texts sent that had made it through, boiling the blood under his skin as he read the words across his screen. He closed his messages out and tried blasting some of his music to drown out the burning sensation that climbed up his throat, but it was no use. The damage had been done. Peter managed to resist the urge to throw his phone across the room but couldn’t quite get rid of the tightness in his chest.

He needed something to drink, something cold to ease the burn.

Peter hadn’t realized how much noise his angry, heavy steps made or how hard he had slammed the fridge door shut until he was stopped just outside of the kitchen, his headphones ripped from his ears by a very stern-looking uncle. The quiet glower on Tony’s face made his heart pound, blood pumping so hard through his ears that he couldn’t hear Tony’s voice. He made a grab for the wires, but Tony flicked his wrist and managed to dislodge them from his phone.

“The fuck!?” he exclaimed, making another grab as Tony pulled them out of his reach. He almost dropped the bottle of water in his other hand in doing so. “Give those back!”

“Not until you stop acting like some fucking alpha-male and slamming shit around,” Tony replied cooly. His voice was straining to remain calm, but Peter could see a spark of annoyance in his eyes. “This is the kind of shit that got you sent here in the first place, kid."

_ Kid _ .

Not the first time Tony had called him that, but there was something different about it this time around. This time, it only seemed to stoke the flames. Peter practically snarled as he reached out for the headphones again. Tony was just as quick.

“Give me back my headphones.”

“Not until you tell me what just happened.” Tony put them behind his back.

Peter rolled his eyes. God, what the fuck was he doing?

“Fine, fucking keep them! I don’t care.”

Peter slid past Tony, feeling the plastic of the bottle give and crinkle underneath his hardening grip on it. Fuck, he really shouldn’t have opened those messages. Things were actually starting to get easier, more bearable. He was enjoying his part-time work, enjoying watching his uncle work on that piece of shit Cadillac in his free time, enjoying the near-silence that came with being outside of the city.

And he had to go and fucking ruin it.

He was more disappointed with himself than anything else. He had promised May to make an effort, and instead he was making a mess of things.

He didn’t get very far down the hallway before Tony barked at him, voice echoing in the small confines between the walls. “_ Hey _ ! We’re not finished! Get your ass back here _ now _, Peter. You don’t get to cuss me out and then storm off to your room like it’s nothing.”

“And you don’t get to boss me around like you’re my goddamn father!” Peter whirled on Tony, heart thudding in his head and chest. It felt good to raise his voice. Cathartic. “Just because you’re my uncle doesn't mean you’re my family. You don’t fucking know me!”

“Watch your mouth, kid. I don’t have to know you to kick your ass back into place.” Tony advanced on him, just a few steps, but Peter was too angry to back down this time. He took one step forward. “What are you gonna do? Hit me? You want a fight? I’m not my sister, boy. I’m not gonna cower away because you want to raise your voice.”

A fight? No. If Peter was being honest with himself, a fight was the last thing he wanted. Getting physical with Flash had been a mistake. He didn’t regret it entirely, since seeing Flash crying and spitting blood was satisfying after so much torment, but it wasn’t an experience he wanted to go through again.

Tony was bigger and definitely stronger. Any injury he got from that fight wouldn’t be worth it, even if he did manage to draw blood. On top of that, fighting and hurting Tony would just make things with May worse, make her hate him more.

That thought alone drained some of his anger, although he could still feel a hot flush over his face. His chest heaved with each breath.

“Kid,” Tony said. His voice was quieter but no less stern. His face, lined with worry, softened. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Peter swallowed and backed away.

“Just leave me alone.”

Peter retreated into his room, heart pounding, a lump growing in his throat. His hands shook so badly he dropped the bottle before sliding down to the floor and wrapping his arms around his stomach. He was going to be vomit, could already feel the bile at the back of his throat.

This was the part that May—and now, Tony—never saw. The guilt that ate away at him until he couldn’t breathe, making him sick. This time, there was no quiet sobbing from his Aunt in the other room, but that didn’t seem to make things easier.

Just Tony’s footsteps in the hall walking up to Peter’s door, stopping for what felt like hours, before retreating to his respective bedroom and closing the door.

Peter wasn’t sure how much time went by before he heard Tony’s door open again, his footsteps hesitating across from Peter’s room when he crossed to Peter’s door a second time, and then moving down the hallway in a rushed pace. He slammed the door behind him so hard it shook the house.

Peter grit his teeth and held a breath until his chest ached.

—

Peter awoke on the floor of his room, on his side, halfway curled into a fetal position. He didn’t remember falling asleep, or falling on his side, but his cheek pressed against the carpet when he opened his eyes and flinched against the dull ache behind them. His back and neck protested with him when he sat up, and he winced at a twinge of pain that ran through him. He would certainly be feeling that in the morning.

The clock on his phone said it was just past 1 AM, meaning he had been asleep in that awkward position for at least four hours. He sat up and popped his back in a way that hurt but left him far more relaxed. His neck, however, was still very stiff.

He managed to get to his feet and stretch out the tension in his muscles before he heard a rather familiar sound echoing across the hallway from his uncle’s room. Tony was getting his dick wet yet again, probably to work out the pent-up frustration from their fight earlier. And Peter didn’t have his headphones so he could drown out the sound of the high-pitched moans from his partner.

Peter’s dick twitched. It shouldn’t have, but thinking about what Tony could have been doing to her made his heart thud in his chest. He shouldn’t look again; Tony might have let his accidental peeping slide the first time, but there would be no mistaking it if Peter were to watch him for a second time.

Peter decided he didn’t care. He was still riled up from his messages from Flash earlier, and he had enjoyed watching Tony squirm while trying to confront Peter about it. Plus, his uncle was definitely something to look at. It’d give him a nice distraction until he could fall asleep.

Reserving his spot in hell, Peter slowly, quietly, opened his door and peeked out into the hallway. Tony’s door was only partially open, but the noises from his room weren’t muffled at all.

Peter made it one step into the hallway before he recognized the moaning voice as belonging to a man rather than a woman. That gave him pause. Tony was… He was having sex? With another man? That voice certainly wasn’t his own, unless the man was so depraved he was going to moan out his own name during sex. Peter wouldn’t put it past the man to do so, though. The stories Bruce had told him about their younger years would make Peter believe just about anything about his uncle’s ego.

Peter stepped closer to Tony’s door, picking out two voices now. Tony definitely had someone new over, and his partner sounded like he was trying to win an AVN award. Who was he trying to impress?

What he saw around the door frame made his heart jump straight up into his throat.

Tony had another man in his bed, just as Peter had suspected, but not the type Peter would have expected he’d be into. The guy was, for lack of a better word, a twink, all thin limbs and ribs showing along his sides. His hair was brown, curly, but just a shade darker than Peter’s own, and his eyes were covered by what looked like a crimson tie turned into a blindfold. His cherry-pink lips were separated in a drawn out moan as Tony’s slowly entered him.

The sight of Tony grinding his hips against the twink’s ass was enough to get Peter completely hard in his jeans, straining against the zipper and aching. Peter couldn’t help but clench his thighs together and hiss through his teeth, the noise thankfully hidden by the sound of Tony’s partner cursing loudly.

“Oh, fuck, Tony,” the other man said, his hands going up behind his head to fist at the bedsheets. Tony chuckled above him.

“Yeah, baby, that feel good?” Tony said, and the gravel in his voice went straight to Peter’s dick.

“Not as good as your mouth, you old perv.”

The boy giggled when Tony leaned down to kiss him, slipping his tongue between his lips as he started a steady pace. He had the boy falling apart in no time, those obscenely-fake moans spilling from him with each thrust. He could hear Tony grunting with each quick snap of his hips, the slap of their skin.

Peter didn’t realize his hand had drifted down to his own crotch until he was blindly groping at himself again, eyes locked on where Tony moved between the boy’s thighs. Peter had a split moment of imagining himself there instead of some twink from a bar. The thought of being plowed by his own uncle nearly buckled his knees. He whimpered, eyes falling shut as he squeezed and rubbed himself.

The frame of the door strained with how hard he was gripping it when he hurriedly undid his zipper and slid his fingers down into the waistband of his underwear, fingers wrapping delicately around his own shaft. The gentle brush of his fingertips had his legs shaking. God, he was so fucked up.

A chuckle startled him. Peter’s eyes snapped open, cold dread pooling in his gut when he realized that Tony was watching his hand where he had been touching himself. His hips had slowed down to a near stop, focused entirely on where Peter was half-hidden and…

_ Shit _.

Peter braced himself to be yelled at or called out, his hand already retreating from his underwear. He was well and truly fucked.

Goodbye Midtown. Hello boot camp.

The impending meltdown never came.

Instead, Tony’s eyes came up to his, eyebrow quirking. Peter swallowed and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth at the way his uncle’s lips pulled into a smirk. Tony glanced down at Peter’s hand still halfway into his underwear, where his cock still tented the front, and turned his gaze to his partner in bed, who was now squirming and mewling with Tony’s pause.

“Tooonnnyyy,” he cried, moving his hips himself and pulling at his impromptu blindfold. “Please keep moving, I’m going crazy. What do you want me to do, beg?”

Tony’s eyes flicked to Peter, then back, and he grinned.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” Tony said, and he pulled out only to push himself back in at a snail’s pace, drawing a whimper from the body beneath him. He leaned down to kiss and nip at the boy’s neck, but his eyes went to Peter and stayed there. “Yeah, let me hear you beg. I want you gagging _ for _ my cock before you’re gagging _ on it _.”

Peter swallowed against a sound in his throat as Tony started fucking the boy slowly and shallowly. He barely pulled out before pressing into him and grinding their hips together. Peter sucked his lip into his mouth and reached back into his underwear. He was so hard and hot in his own hand, and Tony seemed to be pleased by the sight of him.

Whatever words dribbled out of the other boy’s mouth went unheard by Peter. All he could think of was his uncle’s eyes on him as he touched himself, encouraged him, fucked another person with his eyes on Peter. That made him grip his cock harder, and he had to smother a whine that threatened to give him away.

Tony groaned, eyes locked on Peter’s hand stroking himself and moving in his underwear. He sped up his pace.

“Let me see you touch yourself,” Tony ordered, and even though his lips were pressed into the neck of his partner, his eyes never left Peter’s moving hand. “Let me see you stroke that pretty little cock of yours.”

Peter was frozen. Tony’s voice gave him no room to argue, but Peter hadn’t gone this far. He hadn’t even expected Tony to see him there and then continue fucking his partner as if Peter wasn’t standing right outside his door and watching. Or, he had expected this. Hoped for it, maybe. He knew Peter had willingly watched him with that woman all those weeks ago, did he want Peter to find him like this?

His hesitation to follow orders seemed to tick Tony off. He bent his head low, rubbing his stubble against the other boy’s neck, before biting down hard enough to earn himself a surprised yelp.

“Don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart.”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat.

At this point, he had already secured his spot in hell. Might as well give himself a reputation while he was at it.

With his heart thudding in his head and his stomach doing flips, he pulled his hand from the cover of his underwear and pushed the hem down. He clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to meet Tony’s gaze as he bared himself to his uncle’s hungry eyes. Like a fucking traitor, his cock gave an excited twitch when it was freed, and he could hear Tony’s appreciative growl when he wrapped his hand around himself.

When Peter finally managed to open his eyes, he found Tony’s glued to his cock, hips starting to speed up again. His bed partner had reached down to follow Tony’s orders, slender fingers wrapping around his own dick and stroking in time with Tony’s thrusts. He jerked his hips up, mouth searching for Tony’s and only finding his neck.

Tony didn’t seem to pay him any mind, beyond fucking into him.

Peter started stroking himself slowly, not quite meeting Tony’s own pace, but keeping his eyes locked with his uncle’s. Fuck, he was so _ hard _. Each drag of his fingers against his dick was like lightning, shooting through and igniting every vein in his body. He felt ready to burst just from having Tony’s eyes on him, from following his orders and watching the approval light up in his eyes.

“‘Atta boy,” Tony purred, and he held his partner’s other hand down onto the mattress. “Keep touching yourself, don’t stop. I want to see you come.”

The muscles in Peter’s thighs began to shake, weak from the pressure building up low in his gut. He found himself leaning heavily against the doorframe and sagging all of his weight against it. Tony’s eyes never left his, even as his wrist sped up, whimpering little noises escaping from his chest despite his every effort to hold them back. The only thing that made him want to let them loose was the way Tony’s teeth dug into his bottom lip.

Peter wished he could have lasted longer, but his uncle’s intense stare and sudden willingness to give him orders turned him on in a way he hadn’t felt before. Each touch was intensified. His hand didn’t feel like his own, and he managed to keep his pace with that of the now-erratic pace of Tony’s hips.

His release hit him so hard it knocked the breath out of him, took him by surprise, and Peter put the back of his hand to his mouth and dug his teeth into his knuckles to muffle his voice. He made a quiet noise into the bruising flesh of his hand. Peter’s cum dibbled over his fingers and onto his jeans and the floor beneath him.

On the bed, with his eyes clenched shut, Tony dug his knees into the bed and drilled into the small body underneath him. His bed partner wailed, back bending, hand still moving sporadically and desperately over his own cock until he came with a weak spurt over his and Tony’s stomachs. His little cries of _ ah, ah _ grew in volume as Tony buried his face into his partner’s neck and fucked into him harder until he finally went still and pressed himself as far into his partner as possible. Peter could see his body going taut with each wave of pleasure that hit him as he rode them out.

Peter mentally cursed. He pulled his pants and underwear back up and retreated behind his uncle’s door before the man could look at him again, and before the stranger on the bed took off his blindfold and discovered they were being watched.

He wasn’t shy about letting his door be heard when it closed, nor about the way he sunk to the floor against it and put his clean hand to his mouth.

_ Holy shit _, he thought, vaguely aware of the conversation now happening across the hall. It sounded light-hearted, casual, like Tony’s partner hadn’t just had his entire life fucked out of him.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know that Tony’s commands and sweet words weren’t for him, that Tony hadn’t praised him for doing what he said. They had been for Peter. Peter, who had been standing at his uncle’s bedroom door and watching him fuck a guy with features similar enough to his to give him reason to think that whatever twisted, sick perversion Peter bore for his uncle…

It didn’t go unnoticed or unrequited. 

—

The next morning brought with it the cold dread of confronting his uncle. Peter had managed to make it to the bed the night before, although the signs of his nap on the floor were still present in the way his neck muscles twinged when he turned his head a little too far to the left. He could hear Tony moving around in the kitchen from where he was lying in bed, cocooned in his covers, and the smell of freshly-cooked bacon made his stomach growl and groan with excitement.

Peter couldn’t act on his desire for breakfast, though. His stomach dropped with the memory of what had happened the night before, hoping and praying that maybe Tony had just been absolutely shitfaced and couldn’t remember anything.

The chances of that outcome weren’t high enough for him to answer when Tony eventually knocked on his bedroom door and opened it after a significant silence. Peter clenched his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep when Tony called out to him and kept still until the door eventually closed with a gentle click.

Peter did that at least two more times, pretending to be asleep while Tony went about his day in his home, switching between activity upstairs and watching TV downstairs. The morning turned to day, turned to afternoon. Peter knew he couldn’t pretend to be asleep forever and eventually rose out of bed.

Better now than later, he supposed. Get it over with and move the fuck on. If Tony was going to call him out on what happened the night before, he might as well just let it happen so he could move past it.

Tony had migrated upstairs before Peter finally summoned the courage to emerge from his bedroom. His door and the floor of the hallway didn’t give away his movements even with their squeaking, but his phone going off in a rapid succession of a few texts were loud enough that the keyboard clicking from upstairs paused, and Peter held his breath in hopes that maybe Tony would go back to whatever business he was conducting.

A third chime made Peter’s blood turn cold. Shit.

“Pete, you up?” Tony called, and more key-clicking followed his voice.

Peter hoped his voice wouldn’t betray his nerves.

“Y-Yeah.” A voice crack, great.

“Can you come up here a minute? I have to ask you something.”

Fighting his urge to bolt out the door and never look back, Peter shoved his phone into his pocket and climbed the stairs without giving Tony an answer. The stairs creaked just the slightest under his weight, and he was greeted to the sight of his uncle sitting at that wooden desk with his hands gliding over the keyboard of his computer. Aside from a few folders stacked near him, the desk was empty, and Tony was occupying the only available chair.

Peter didn’t trust his legs to hold him up through this conversation. He made himself comfortable on the edge of the desk, bare feet hanging off, thumb nervously rubbing against the screen of his cell phone.

Tony made him wait. He agonized in his anticipation while Tony finished wrapping up an email, index finger idly tapping the spacebar until he decided it was good enough and sent it off. The look he fixed Peter with while swiveling in his chair made Peter want to tuck his tail between his legs and bolt. He leaned back until he was reclined, and the chair squeaked under his weight.

“You and I need to talk,” he said slowly. Peter was sure the color was now draining from his face. He nodded and kept quiet.

Tony sighed and then reached out to pat Peter’s knee. “You’re not in trouble, kid. At least, not with me. But we _ have _ to talk about that outburst yesterday if you don’t want to end up on the other side of the country.”

Peter almost choked on his spit. “What.”

“Did you think you were going to talk to me like that, and that I wasn’t going to address it?” Tony asked with a chuckle. “No, no. I’m not like my sister, trying to avoid it in the hopes it goes away. We’re having this awkward, uncomfortable conversation whether you like it or not. Say ‘fuck’ to me, though, and I’m hitting you upside the head.”

A new kind of nervous shot through Peter. His hands shook where they were stuffed into his pockets. “We had a fight,” he said, hating how he could hear the shakiness in his voice, “that’s all there is to it.”

“Not that easy, kid.” Tony ignored the text notification that rang from Peter’s pocket. “I wanna know what started it. You were pissed before I took those headphones away. _ Talk _.”

“It’s not that deep.” Peter stood from the desk and took a step towards the staircase. He was done, he needed to get out. “And speaking of my headphones, you never gave them back. Those are the only pair I have.”

“Good, then you can’t block me out.” Tony shot up from his chair and put himself in front of Peter, effectively blocking him from his only exit. Shit. He really shouldn’t have come upstairs. “And don’t try that alpha-dog bullshit with me again. I’m not gonna let that shit keep happening every time something so much as mildly annoys you.”

Peter’s heart was in his ears now, thundering, drowning out everything. He was sure Tony could hear it, standing barely three feet away.

He couldn’t tell Tony the truth, couldn’t bear having to say it out loud.

His phone went off again. Tony groaned.

“Give me that,” he ordered, holding his hand out. “That’s the third time I’ve heard it go off today, and it’s another distraction from this conversation.”

One moment turned into two under Tony’s hard glare. Peter’s fingers tightened around his phone all the while, staring his uncle down. “I can just turn it off.”

Tony’s lips tightened into a thin line.

“Sure, but I need insurance that you’re going to _ actually _ talk to me. Once we’re done, you’ll get that and your headphones back, and we can go back to tolerating each other until May comes to take you back to civilization,” Tony promised.

He curled his fingers in, ushering Peter to do as commanded. “We don’t have all day.”

Peter’s blood was ice in his veins. Tony’s brow was pulled tight enough to line his forehead, and he stood tall and looming above him with his hand still outstretched. A silent warning that he was leaving no room for negotiation. Do as you’re told because there’s no other option.

Peter gave in with a shaky breath and dropped his phone into Tony’s open palm with a shaking hand. His legs nearly gave out as he backed up back onto the desk. His entire body sagged against it, weight held up only by its sturdy frame.

Tony looked down at Peter’s phone when yet another text notification came through, his expression unchanging. He swiped through them with his thumb.

Peter’s stomach turned and cramped. He felt sick. He was going to be sick. Maybe throwing up on Tony’s carpet would teach the man a lesson. He ducked his head and fixed his eyes to a frayed strand of the carpet.

Tony stayed silent. He couldn’t see Tony’s face this way, with his eyes glued to the floor. He didn’t want to see it, if he was honest. A dozen lies ran through his head. Something, he figured. He could come up with _ something _.

Tony hummed, but it wasn’t pleasant.

“Peter.” Tony’s voice was soft. When Peter looked up, he saw his uncle staring at his phone screen, brow pinched together, looking a mixture of confused and… angry. “Who is Flash?”

“What.”

Peter’s voice was more of a breath, like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He should have Flash’s number blocked, his texts shouldn’t have been able to get through. He remembered unblocking it the night before out of curiosity but—

Shit. _ Shit _.

Tony continued scrolling back and forth between the recent texts, the ones that Flash must have been sending him after realizing that Peter had unblocked his number. He looked progressively angrier and angrier as he did, lines casting shadows over his face.

“Tony,” Peter said, reaching for his phone. His uncle pulled it back, just out of reach. “Please, don’t.”

“Answer my question.”

Tony’s eyes were back on him, but they no longer bore the cold annoyance they did before, when Tony had first cornered him. There was something in them that made Peter sick, made the tremor in his hands worse. He looked at Peter like a scared puppy who would run if he so much as raised his voice above a whisper.

The lines of his face softened. Peter knew he looked as scared as he felt.

“It’s okay, it’s just you and me,” Tony said, and his voice was so quiet. A lump grew in Peter’s throat; his eyes burned with hot tears. “Explain it to me, yeah? This kid, Flash, is he the reason you’re acting the way that you are?”

Peter swallowed again, blinking back the wetness in his eyes. His voice was barely a whisper when he finally spoke. “Please don’t tell May.”

“I won’t.”

Peter didn’t even know if he could trust him on that. But Tony had seen the messages already. He knew, he just wanted to hear Peter say it for himself. Peter took a deep breath and hated how much it shook.

“Flash is my ex-boyfriend,” Peter said slowly, and he grimaced when a few tears escaped his eyes. He sniffed and brushed them away quickly, but he knew it was for nothing. Tony had seen them. “And he’s an asshole, so I broke his nose. There, happy?”

“What did he do, cheat on you?”

The sincerity in his uncle’s voice made him feel worse. There was no questioning about Peter calling him an “ex” or how they had gotten together in the first place. Tony wanted to know how Flash had hurt him. He also ignored Peter’s sharp, aggressive tone, instead remaining calm and genuine.

“No, he fucking _ outed me _. To the whole school.” Peter wiped more tears away, angry at himself for them. “We got drunk at a party, and I guess we were both questioning what we were into, or whatever. We kissed and started dating, but we didn’t tell anyone because we were both scared of people finding out. Turns out, he didn’t like kissing other boys while sober. I did.”

Peter took another breath. Tony didn’t interrupt.

“Flash decided he was done,” Peter continued with a heavy sigh. “He broke up with me but he made it sound like I was fucking obsessed with him or something, like there wasn’t a relationship. He outed me to everyone we know, and he doesn’t even have the decency to lose my number or leave me alone. I finally got tired of it.”

He idly rubbed at his two healed fingers, running them across the bone where it had fractured. They no longer hurt, but he could still feel the ghost of Flash’s cartilage splintering underneath his fist. It had felt good in the moment, even for the few minutes afterwards when Flash had crumpled to the ground and howled in pain.

Peter didn’t continue. Tony piped up, “So, the fight was because he was harassing you?”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“And what about May?” Tony asked. “What does this have to do with the way you’ve been treating her?”

Peter sniffed again. He hated how easily Tony was pulling these tears from him.

“After the fight with Flash we kind of got into it, because Flash’s parents tried to press assault charges,” Peter admitted. “That was the first time, and it was just easier to yell at her than tell her the truth. At least she wouldn’t hate me for something I can’t control.”

Peter bit back a sob the moment it was out of his mouth. Holy fuck, did that hurt to say. The knife between his ribs returned, and as always, he was the only one twisting it. He covered his mouth as more tears poured over his lashes and between his fingers. The fact that Tony was watching him made it even worse. He sniffed again, hating how wet it sounded.

Tony moved to lean against the desk next to him, an arm around Peter’s shoulders. His blubbery sobs worsened. Peter did his best to suppress them.

“Easy, kid,” Tony said, thumb idly rubbing against Peter’s shoulder. “Get it out if you have to.”

Peter didn’t want to. He kept his eyes glued to the floor. “Shut up.”

Tony snorted. He did keep his comments to himself while Peter regained his composure, wiping away at the unending stream of tears that escaped his eyes when he blinked. He had managed to keep himself from hiccuping and his nose from running off his face. If Tony noticed how he had tucked himself into his uncle’s side, he said nothing about that, either.

Finally, Peter asked, “So, what happens now?” He hated how weak and broken his voice sounded.

“Now,” Tony said slowly, his hand moving from Peter’s shoulder to the back of his neck. Peter tried and failed to suppress a shiver when he felt Tony’s fingers tease the short hairs at the nape. “Now, I call May and tell her we talked things out. Whether or not you tell her about Flash is your decision, but I did promise to call her when we reached a resolution.”

Peter swallowed and sighed.

“And if my sister does have a bad reaction,” Tony added, “then you can just come back and live with me. I highly doubt that’s going to happen, but if it does, rule number one in this house is that you can’t slam my doors. Ever. I pay the bills, though, so I’m allowed to do whatever I want with my doors.”

Peter couldn’t help laughing. It was wet and scratchy and hurt his throat, but it felt good. He could breathe, didn’t feel the weight of his secret holding his head down and hunching his shoulders. And Tony… His hand was still at Peter’s neck, fingertips sifting through his soft hair.

It sent chills across his skin.

His heart was in his throat now, staring up at his uncle’s soft smile.

He didn’t think, wasn’t thinking, just acted.

Tony’s lips molded out of his smile to fit perfectly against Peter’s kiss, to slide apart and let his tongue prod at the seam of Peter’s lips. Peter couldn’t help the mewl that escaped him when he felt Tony’s tongue slide against his own, nor could help the desperate way his fingers clawed Tony’s shirt to pull him closer.

And just as quickly as he had responded, Tony tore away from him, staring bug-eyed at his nephew while Peter’s mind struggled to catch up. Peter felt as though he had been punched in the chest. His fingers flew up to his mouth where he could still feel Tony’s lips pressed against them, still taste his tongue. His own tongue poked out to wet his lips, and Tony’s eyes darted down to watch it.

“Fuck,” Tony murmured.

Dread returned to Peter’s gut, curdling sour in the pit of his stomach. “I’m… I don’t… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Tony pounced before he could finish.

Those lips were on his again, more insistent and more in control, hands grabbing him up and plopping him down onto the sturdy desk behind him. A full, heavy weight settled between his legs and trapped him there, thighs spread and knees on each side of his hips as Tony hooked a hand around his neck. Another sound escaped him, one Tony swallowed and smothered while his tongue slipped between Peter’s lips.

Peter’s fingers sank into the soft material of Tony’s aged AC/DC shirt, pulling him close, trying to pretend that his face wasn’t still hot and puffy from crying his eyes out. Tony didn’t seem to mind, if what Peter felt nudging his open thigh was anything to go by.

He couldn’t help the little whimper he made when Tony came up for breath, shushing him gently and pressing gentle, chaste kisses to his lips.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you,” Tony growled against his mouth, stealing another kiss before ducking his head to leave wet ones along Peter’s jaw. “You’re safe with me, Pete.”

“Yes,” Peter responded. His voice pitched so high he barely recognized it, but Tony’s hand was so gentle when it cupped his cheek and held him for a kiss.

He blinked, and more tears spilled out. Tony’s hands were there to wipe them away.

—

The next several weeks passed in a hazy, happy blur. Peter and Tony had spent so long talking about what exactly had grown between them, what it could (and shouldn’t) turn into, exactly how others would react if they knew. Peter found he didn’t care about reactions or taboo, because everything about his uncle’s hands on him had felt so _ right _ .

He had cried the first time, scaring Tony to death. The man had held him so gently, taken care of him in a way that made the tears flow harder. But everything about it had been perfect, so goddamn perfect, that he couldn’t help himself. He told Tony as such, reassured him. He hadn’t felt so good with anyone else, not the way he had with Tony. (And, if he could be bold, _ so many times _.)

Peter had made it up to him by letting Tony mark him in every way he wanted to; bruises from holding him down or spanking him littered his thighs and ass, hickies across his chest where his shirt would have no problem hiding them, and bite marks that still burned red in the morning when he woke the next morning tangled in Tony’s sheets. Tony bore a few of his own marks, but he allowed Peter to mark him up where he wanted.

“I’ll just tell your aunt I was naughty while you were here,” Tony had said when Peter asked him if it was really okay to do so. “Not exactly a lie, now is it?”

Peter had taken full advantage of that, almost wanting Tony to regret giving him that kind of freedom. He could still count the little purple splotches he had sucked dark into Tony’s skin, some hidden by the dark shirt he was wearing. Tony didn’t seem aware of his staring until he had two cups of coffee in hand, turning to offer one to Peter and catching him red-handed.

“You need to stop looking at me like that, kid,” Tony gently chastised as he placed a plain green mug in front of Peter.

Peter accepted it and hid his smirk in the rim. “Or what? Are you gonna spank me?”

“Don’t.” Tony snorted into his coffee and held a finger up in front of Peter. “May’s going to be here any minute, and the last thing I need is to get interrupted with you bent over the counter.”

“Again?”

“Yes, _ again _.”

Peter took a sip of coffee, hot and sweet, the way Tony had learned he liked it. He let it sit on his tongue before swallowing it. Tony wasn’t watching him, eyes focused on his own phone screen as he flicked his thumb across it, or he would have seen the way Peter’s face fell. He looked at the swirling caramel liquid in his mug and gave it a shake just to watch it nearly spill over the rim.

“Tony?” he asked. He hated how insecure he sounded. Tony perked up.

“What’s up?”

Peter couldn’t bring himself to look up. “What if… What if May really rejects me?” he asked. The fear crept back into him, sending his heart racing. “I know you said I could come back, but fuck, I’m just scared to hear her say anything beyond, ‘it’s okay.’”

Tony’s face softened, and his phone fell to the counter so he could lace his fingers with Peter’s. Tony’s hand was cold compared to his after he had clutched his mug so tightly, but a new kind of warmth spread through him when Tony gave his hand a small squeeze.

“You’re gonna be fine, Pete,” Tony promised. “She loves you, and compared to how you were acting before, I highly doubt coming out could be what makes her lose her cool. Be open and honest with her, okay? Maybe hearing the truth about Flash will make her understand why you reacted the way you did. The broken nose was especially traumatic for her.”

Peter smiled and quickly tried to smother it. Tony squeezed his hand again.

“Maybe not _ too _ honest,” Peter said. “I doubt she wants to know _ everything _.”

Tony pulled his hand back to ruffle Peter’s hair and go back to his phone and coffee. Peter pulled his own out of his back pocket, thumbing through texts sent to and from MJ and Ned.

He missed his friends, missed hunching over his desk in the evening with homework to keep his mind and hands busy. He didn’t fear going back to school so much as he did having to put up with Flash’s bullshit. Peter couldn’t promise himself he wouldn’t get into another fight and break another bone, despite the one he had made to Tony.

The coffee did nothing to settle his stomach, but he drank it down and Tony didn’t deny him when he asked for a refill.

He spent the rest of the morning packing his bags and double- and triple-checking his shirt collar. Even though he knew that the hickies would only be visible if May made a point to go looking for them, he still didn’t want to take the chance she would see one when she walked in. Tony might be able to get away with “being naughty,” but Peter was pretty sure May would have a conniption fit at the mere thought of Peter doing it.

It was another half hour of agonizing before they heard the sound of a car door closing out front. Peter had pressed himself to Tony’s side on the couch, taking comfort in the warmth of his hands and body, focusing on matching their breathing rather than anticipating his aunt walking through the door. Tony unwound Peter’s arms from his side and patted his thigh when he got up to open the door.

Peter swallowed against a wave of nausea while Tony greeted May and welcomed her in.

May twisted her hands together when she finally spotted him. She no longer had bags under her eyes from sleepless nights or swollen eyes and tear tracks trailing down her face. Her hair was combed neatly, pulled into a tight and low ponytail. She looked at ease and happy to see him. She even offered him a small wave and a smile when the silence between them dragged on just a second too long.

Peter bounded over the back of the couch to wrap his arms around her and squeeze her neck. She welcomed him into her arms, wound tight around his back. Her hand petting his hair nearly undid him.

“Hey, May,” he mumbled into her neck. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” May said, and she sounded near to tears.

“‘M sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a dick to you.” She pushed Peter far enough away to kiss his cheek and brush a few tears off of her own cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m so happy to see you.” She held his face in her hands and kissed his cheek again. “God, it’s like looking at a completely different person. Is Tony handing me a brainwashed clone?”

Peter pulled her hands off his face. “No, but he did sort of kick my ass when I acted like a brat.”

“Language,” Tony chided.

May beamed at him and kissed his face enough times to have him squirming away and holding her at arm’s length. She looked at ease with him now, not flinching when he spoke or looking at him like he was a pipe bomb about to explode. She was free with her affection and hugged him so tightly that Peter was worried she’d end up choking him out and he’d have to spend the majority of the ride home unconscious.

She stayed for an hour after that, having coffee with them and listening to Tony talk about all the work Peter put in at the garage. (“I didn’t pay him, but I’m willing to be a reference for his college applications. Speaking of, Pete, when’s the deadline for those again?”) Peter did another round of his room and the bathroom to make sure he had everything he brought and resisted the temptation to “accidentally” leave something behind.

Like he needed incentive to return.

It eventually came time for them to leave, much to Peter’s dismay. He was thankful for the quick trip May took to the bathroom before they left. It gave him ample time to press himself against Tony and drag him down for a kiss. Tony’s arms wound around his hips. His fingers dug hard into the bruises still lying beneath his clothes. A weak little sound escaped Peter’s lips before he could stop it, and Tony nipped his bottom lip before pulling back.

“Hey,” Tony said gently, a complete contradiction to the grip Tony previously had on his ass. “You’re gonna be fine, kid. You’ve still got a place with me if shit goes sideways.”

Peter nodded, kissing Tony back when he placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Can I call you when it’s done?”

“Of course, baby.” Tony’s next kiss went to Peter’s forehead. His other hand smoothed Peter’s hair back, stubble rubbing into his skin as Tony kissed him again, this time between his brows.

May was none the wiser when she returned, and after Tony helped him pack his bags and hugged them both farewell, May was backing out of the driveway and onto the road. She didn’t see the way Peter waved to Tony, and the way Tony winked and waved back.

Tony and his home were gone within minutes, and the only thing Peter saw was blurred splotches of green and brown as they passed lines of trees. May’s music played loudly, although she turned it down the moment the main street of the city was visible. There was a hopeful glint in her eyes when she turned to him and raised her shoulders.

“So,” she started, sparing him another glance as they stopped in an intersection. “It wasn’t complete hell, right?”

“Could’ve been worse,” Peter responded, and he let her ruffle his hair before their light finally turned green.

“Well, come on, tell me all about it. I wanna hear about that engine you helped replace.”

Peter nodded, bracing his feet against the floorboard, like he was bracing himself for a crash. “Yeah, yeah sure. Um, can I actually talk to you about something first?”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at readysetstarker on tumblr! come say hi :D


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